Page 3 of Secrets in a Sandstorm

“I’ll take my chances because the storm will definitely kill us.” Harrison removes his helmet and holds it out to me, keeping his head turned away from the wind. He pulls the bandana from around his neck up to cover his mouth and nose. He pulls a small flashlight out of a pocket in his pants and flicks it on, leaving me holding his helmet.

His saddlebags rest at my feet with sand piling up against my boots. Despite my helmet, the wind is howling like we’ve done something to offend the local gods.

There was no storm in the forecast. Harrison and the guide checked before we headed out, as this is the most remote part of our journey. Is our guide caught in thestorm? Did he set up camp only to have it tossed aside? If he’s dead, will anyone search for us?

My thoughts become more morbid with each passing second. My breath echoes in my ears, and the helmet becomes too tight. It’s panic, that’s all.

I consciously slow my breaths and think of something else. The ruins we stopped at to eat our sandwiches in the shade of a stone wall. Harrison sitting next to me, lips curved in a smile at something I said, eyes hidden by sunglasses. I don’t know what—I think we were talking about what it might have looked like back when my great-grandfather was here and wondering if he’d ever sat there with his friends. I don’t remember him as I was only five when he died. But Jay did.

I take a step and watch the sand shift, filling in my footprints as if I never existed.

The beam of a torch bounces toward me, and the knot of tension in my gut eases.

Harrison sticks his hand out of the gap and beckons me closer. I lean in, and he flips my visor up. “It widens out after a few meters. Give me the bags and helmet.”

He’s shouting at me to be heard. I give him a thumbs up to show I understand, then pass him his things. Out of the storm and into the dark. It’s fine. I take off my helmet, pull up my bandana, and follow him, trusting him.

The way I always have.

I try not to think about all the times we got into trouble. The broken push bikes and bones from homemade jumps and stunts gone wrong. Forts constructed in the bush that resulted in splinters and cuts and insect bites. At some point, I started shoving plasters into my pocket before we headed out because someone was going to need them.

The rock wall brushes against my back and stomach,and my arms are spread as I inch along, which makes the bags and helmet that much heavier. I focus on the light coming from his flashlight, not the way the rock is now pressing against me.

He said it widens out.

It’s not getting closer.

But I’m bigger than he is.

What if I don’t fit?

The storm is screaming, and my heart is pounding. My panic is hitting a nine, and that’s not good. Panicking will only make this worse. That I can reason with myself is a good sign. Maybe I’m not panicking at a nine, even though the rock is embracing me and it’s dark except for the pale beam of light leading me deeper.

With each shuffling step, the noise dies down.

Isn’t that nice? Now I can hear myself think.

That means the sand won’t be attacking me. I’m sweaty, and my jacket is catching on to the rock. I’m breathing hard. Until today I never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but I’m getting a taste of fear, and I don’t like it.

Before I can worry about what it means, the rocks release me. I’m through. I put the bags and helmet down and take several deep, slow breaths. After the noise of the storm, the cave is eerily quiet, and the howling seems far away.

But it's bloody dark.

Harrison directs the beam of light at my feet. “All good?”

“Yeah. Was a little tighter than I was expecting.” He could’ve warned me.

He laughs. “All the better for keeping the sand out.”

“You’re not worried about having to dig our way out?”

“That’s a problem for when the storm passes. Right now, it might be a good idea to have a bite to eat and check this place out.”

“Check for scorpions and snakes…” If we wander too far from the crevice, will we be able to find it in the dark?

“I doubt there’s much food for them in here.” My eyes are getting used to the dim interior.

Harrison crouches and rummages through his bags. The beam of light spills over the floor toward me.

---